Ready Aim Fire
by Tori Stone
Summary: A collection of one-shots inspired by words, phrases, or quotes. Up next: Sirens pt. 2
1. Eyes

**Okay, I'm having a hard time getting my writing chops back into practice. I've been struggling for inspiration all day. Every time I would start the next chapter of _WA_, I would end up deleting it three lines in.**

**So I got on Tumblr and started looking for one-shot prompts, which lead me to discover the most awesome blog ever. f***yeahfanficprompts, minus the asterisks and replaced with the letters...ahem. If you have a Tumblr and struggle with occasional writer's block, I _highly_ suggest following them, or at least checking them out.**

**Anywho, this is a quote they had posted and I was immediately struck with a drabble idea. It's not very long, but I'm okay with that if you guys are.**

**Ah, okay. I think that's it.**

**I don't own Danny Phantom.**

**Enjoy (:**

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_"Look into an infantryman's eyes, and you can tell how much war he has seen." - Bill Mauldin_

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His eyes, his eyes.

His eyes were so dead.

Sam watched him across the table, watched him carry on a conversation with Tucker about new fighting techniques which was beginning to morph into a question of whether or not the speed of the Spector Speeder could be increased. His eyes were withdrawn, dark, clinical. Bags hung beneath those crystal orbs, so dark and heavy, and yet they were such a newly permanent feature on his face that she hardly noticed them anymore.

She chose not to contribute to this conversation, which neither boy appeared to notice. That was just fine to her. She was left to pick moodily at her salad and muse.

They used to be bright and cheerful, a direct reflection of his demeanor. Sure, he was picked on and bullied and ignored by the pretty girls, but he was still a happy-go-lucky goofball.

Until the accident.

That damned accident changed everything.

His eyes grew more disciplined, more wary, and at first she thought it was a good thing. At first, it _was_ a good thing. There's nothing better than waking up to find your best friend has matured and started the process of growing up, at least emotionally. She hoped that maybe with this newfound maturity, he would begin looking beyond a girl's face and start looking for a little depth.

And he did. Valerie, while Sam disliked her, was a major step up from that little tart they called Paulina. Valerie had opinions. Wrong opinions, but at least they were there. And that heartbreak, that was the first time she ever saw a shadow of darkness in his eyes.

That was the start of his spiral down.

Looking back, she found it difficult to believe that three years had passed between that accident and now. It seemed like a blur. A blur of studying, bleeding, fighting, and running. Little moments of peace came here and there, but mostly she was on her feet and in action, alongside Tucker and Danny. She wondered if her eyes were as dead as his were.

He caught her staring. He studied her for a moment while Tucker talked, meeting her gaze evenly. His eyes flickered over her face - a habit he had gotten in to about a year earlier, in which he assured himself she was not hurt. He could read her like an open book, and she quickly discovered within the first year of his powers that trying to hide an injury from him was futile. Now, he was so in tune with her facial expressions that she could not even hide a paper cut. She watched him glance down at her neck, before landing again on her eyes.

He nodded once, a small twitch of his neck, and she pulled her mouth into what was supposed to be a smile, but it was probably closer to a grimace. A year earlier, he would have interrupted Tucker to ask her what the matter was, but now he simply closed his eyes briefly before turning his attention back to Tucker. The little exchange they shared did not go unnoticed by Tucker, either, but he had long since given up with his teasing. He did not miss a beat in whatever topic he was droning on about this time.

_When did we get like this?_ Sam wondered to herself. _When did we get so...numb?_ She glanced past Tucker to the cafeteria beyond. The trio was settled at the end of a long table shoved in a corner of the cafeteria, as far away from the general populus as they could get. In the past, the popular kids would sit just a few tables up from them, and they made it a point during every lunch hour to hurl insults their direction for at least five minutes. But now those kids sat on the opposite side of the cafeteria. No one even glanced their way anymore. They had gone from nerds to being completely invisible. Unnoticed by the world.

Her appetite officially gone, Sam stood and carried her salad to the trashcan at the end of her table. She heaved a heavy sigh and began scraping the leftovers in. Movement at the table on the other side of the trashcan drew her attention up; a young couple were sitting nearly nose-to-nose. They were both grinning foolishly and a lovely pink blush colored the girl's face. Sam cocked her head to the side, frozen in the motion of scraping salad out of the bowl, completely enraptured by the couple. _That could be us_, she thought suddenly. _That _should _be us._

She looked away when they kissed, her chest suddenly tight with emotion. She stood there a moment longer, chewing her lip and battling internally, before clenching her jaw and raising her gaze to the horizon. She _would_ feel again.

Forcing herself to not think about what she was about to do, she dropped the salad container on the end of the table and marched down Danny's side of the table. Her heart was suddenly hammering and adrenaline pumped through her system, a welcome change to the comatose numbness she had been wrapped in for so long now. He did not look up until she was almost on top of him, and he only looked up because Tucker had spotted her expression and was gazing at her with a furrowed brow. He half-turned in his seat, the question in his eyes, and before she could chicken out, she seized a fistful of his shirt and yanked him toward her.

She kissed him hard, holding him in place. His grunt of surprise was muffled and she felt his arms jerking in surprise, but he was not pulling away. That was a good sign, maybe.

When she shoved him away just a moment later, their lips made a wet, smacking noise. Her stomach flipped at the sound. He was staring up at her through wide eyes, breathing heavily, and for the first time in months she saw something like life flickering there. More stomach flips.

Tucker was making sounds of disbelief as Sam straightened. Sam glanced at him, but did not really see him. After a quick glance over her shoulder - no one had even noticed this little outburst, life was still carrying on as usual behind them - Sam planted her boot in the seat beside Danny. She ignored their gazes as she walked over the table and leapt to the ground on the other side. She grabbed Tucker's shoulder to steady herself as she bent at the waist to retrieve her backpack from beneath her seat, and refused to meet either one of their gazes as she shrugged one strap on and walked away. She seized her salad container as she walked away, and nodded as she passed the young couple at the table beside the door.

She was already at her locker, pulling books and binders out, when she heard him call her name. She closed her eyes, preparing herself for the lecture she was sure to come, and shut her locker.

"Look," she said as she turned, eyes cast downward, "I'm sorry, it's just -"

He all but slammed her into her locker. He swallowed her gasp with a searing, fervent kiss, and she was only infinitesimally aware of the fact that he had planted his hands on either side of her shoulders, caging her in. He ground his body into hers, pinning her firmly against the lockers. His kiss was much deeper than hers, his lips far more demanding against hers. He flattened his hands along her torso, gripped her hips possessively, before running his palms up her stomach. He stopped just short of her chest, moving his hands around to her back instead of further up.

He held her there as he pulled away, his eyes half-lidded and smoldering when she finally managed to force her eyelids open. They breathed heavily, in sync, foreheads touching and noses brushing.

"Thank you," He whispered, moving the tip of his nose lightly against hers in an Eskimo kiss.

"F-for what?" She all but panted. God, he drives me crazy...

"Making me feel alive again," He murmured. He pecked her lips before she could respond, and soon one peck became three, then five in quick succession, and then he was kissing her deeply again.

_Anytime, oh please, all the time..._

* * *

**This is gonna be a one-shot dump, not unlike _All of Me Loves All of You_, but these won't be related in any way. I'm gonna go ahead and put this as complete, but I'll update and add on sporadically. Feel free to jump around. Each one-shot will be inspired by a word, phrase, or quote, and each word, phrase, or quote is absolutely free for your own adaptation. If you are interested in expanding on any of these one-shots, send me a PM and we can talk.**

**Thanks for reading, loves.**

**- Tori (:**


	2. Sirens

**I don't own Danny Phantom.**

**Enjoy!**

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_'He could see the light of the sirens, but he could not hear them.'_

* * *

The lights burst against his closed eyelids. He knew what they were, having grown accustomed to the red, blue, red, blue following him every time he fought now. Always there, always flashing, always with a deafening rising and falling siren. No matter how many times he heard it, he never could get used to the sound.

Strange. This time, he could see the lights, but there was no sound.

Maybe there was, he just couldn't hear it. He couldn't hear much of anything, actually. It wasn't totally surprising; a bomb had just gone off not fifty feet from where he had been standing, closely followed by a building collapsing. He wasn't surprised.

Okay, maybe he was a little surprised. Or shocked, that was probably a more accurate word for what he felt. Men in blue suits rushed around the scene around him, some carrying large medical supply kits, others stringing up caution tape, and still others trying to herd the steadily growing crowd of bystanders to a safer place. Danny sat off to the side, perched on a curb, his knees bent and drawn up close to his chest. He propped his elbows up on his knees and threaded his fingers together. He knew, however distantly, that he probably looked a true mess. They had seen him change, seen the flash and the rings of light and watched him make the change from ghost to human. He remembered flashes of pale faces, sideways glances. Maybe it was something about his expression, but for whatever reason they chose not to bother him with questions.

They left him sitting there, bleeding and covered in a fine film of grime, and they told him to wait. Or he thought they did; he could see their lips moving and their hands gesturing, but he heard nothing but a dull roar. He just dropped where he was standing.

He glanced up at the mountain of rubble that had been a warehouse earlier that evening. He'd been stupid, _so_ stupid, to think he could handle Walker there on his own. It was a stroke of pure idiocy to not call for backup. Then again, perhaps it was a stroke of luck; his escape was so narrow, the edge of death so close, he was not positive that the exchange would have ended as well as it did if Tucker or Sam had been there with him.

He shuddered at the thought of his best friends buried in the rubble. How horrific it was, the thought of Tucker lying motionless in the dust, glasses cracked and hanging from his face; or Sam, in all her beauty, eyes open and glassy and half-buried in that building. He screwed his eyes shut.

Maybe when he managed to get his wits about him enough to leave, he would go to their houses. Just to be sure. He did that sometimes. Sam was the only one to catch him in the act, and instead of chastising him or yelling at him she invited him inside. The thought of curling up in her bed beneath her thick comforter with her lying just a few short inches away sent a sudden, unexpected burst of warmth through his chest. He could almost smell her; he had yet to meet another person who smelled quite so consistently like lilies right after a heavy rain. He licked his lips.

Sound was returning to him now, ever so slowly; at first it was just a few mild pops in his left ear. But then he yawned and the pop was large and painful in both ears. He winced and clapped his hands over his ears involuntarily, like he did when he was a child and he would hear his father curse at a failed invention. The sirens were definitely there now, louder than he had ever heard them before. When did that fire truck pull up behind him?

He could hear voices in the crowd now, but only those who were yelling. Strange. _Why are they yelling?_ He glanced back, curiosity getting the better of him, and scanned the crowd. Their faces blended together, and not a single one of them was looking at him. Wait...no. One was looking at him. One face, twisted in fear, red from crying, or running, or screaming, or all three, framed by chin-length jet-black hair. She was struggling against a large police officer. He had a beefy arm around her middle, holding her back, stopping her from crossing the caution line, but she seemed not to notice him. She was screaming his name._ Danny!_

"Sam?" His voice sounded rough and raw. He stood without meaning to and ran a hand through his hair nervously. He felt the urge to cry upon seeing her. The police officer restraining her glanced back at him and saw the recognition in his eyes. He immediately withdrew his arm from around her.

She dove beneath the caution tape and ran to him so fast she was a blur. The force of her body hitting his nearly sent him falling backwards, but he managed to keep his footing. The shock of seeing her there, in the middle of the night, made his brain work slowly. He felt his arms rise to circle around her shoulders, his right hand clinging lightly to her left shoulder and his left flattened against her ribcage. He thought maybe she was crying, because her shoulders were heaving and he heard a strange heaving and moaning sound he had never heard her make before.

"What happened?" She demanded sharply with a voice that cracked with emotion, yanking away from him so suddenly it almost hurt. Her face was red and wet; she was definitely crying.

"Walker," was all he could say.

"Why didn't you call me?" She was almost shouting. Tears were still streaking down her face but the fury in her eyes made him want to cower away from her like a child. He could not find his voice; he merely averted his eyes and shrugged weakly. "You scared me to death, I thought...I thought..." She shuddered and breathed heavily through her mouth, as if she had just run a long distance.

"They saw me," He said hoarsely. He kept his head down, but he peered up at her through his lashes. "They saw me change."

Her expression softened immediately, though he knew better than to think she was no longer angry. "Who did?"

"Cops," He mumbled. "I was just...I couldn't..."

She pursed her lips and turned them to the side, glancing at a passing officer. "What did they say?"

"Nothing...yet," The urge to cry was getting stronger, the lump in his throat near impossible to speak around. "Sam...I'm scared,"

She studied his face through bloodshot eyes and chewed her swollen lower lip. He waited, hands clenching into fists at his side, while she scanned the police officers on the scene. He could practically see the gears in her head turning.

"Okay...don't worry about it. We'll...we'll figure something out. Did you say anything to them after you changed?"

"No. Maybe...I don't know, I can't really remember," He felt incredibly pathetic.

"That's okay. Really, it's okay," She lifted her hand and squeezed his forearm. "Try not to think about it right now, okay? I'll think of something, I'll help you. Don't be scared."

He was still scared, of course, but the idea of Sam helping him - of Sam keeping him safe - sent that same burst of warmth he had felt in his chest exploding through his entire body. He had just enough sense left to seize her upper arms and yank her toward him before the dam broke in his mind. He thought that maybe he was hurting her, so hard was his grip around her, but he could feel her hands on his back. His entire body was wracked with sobs.

Jazz would say it was the ultimate release of the emotions he'd kept so carefully in check for the three years he'd had his powers. She would tell him that he had been close to breaking for weeks now - that an emotional breakdown was inevitable, and he was stupid to think that he could resist it. She wouldn't be surprised to learn he'd finally suffered that breakdown upon nearly dying, getting discovered, and being yelled at for being stupid and not calling for help. She would want to sit down with him, to talk it out, to put the emotions into words and to write those words in a carefully documented and researched analytical paper. Such was his relationship with Jazz.

Tucker would say Danny had been whack for weeks. He would say that Danny was too scary, or emotionless, or whatever other adjectives came to mind at the time. He would say that Danny had changed. And it was true, and not altogether negative; Tucker would shudder if he thought about the Danny that was before the accident trying to protect Amity Park. Tucker would offer to listen, would smile awkwardly if Danny accepted the invitation, and would stumble through a generic _"it gets better"_ speech at the end. Tucker was not good with emotions. Such was his relationship with Tucker.

Sam did not say anything. Not even a soothing _"I'm here now, everything's okay."_ She merely stood there, her arms firm around his back, holding his entire body weight up as he collapsed against her. She lifted her hand and tangled it in the hair at the place where his head and neck converged when he turned his face into the crook of her shoulder. She was his solid point, his foundation, holding him steady and upright while a hurricane of emotions threatened to drown him. He thought maybe once he heard her sniffling, as if she, too, could feel the emotions shredding his insides to messy tatters. Like maybe, by standing there and breaking down in front of the entire Amity Park Police Department, he was transferring some of the fear and pain he'd been feeling for years to her. Somehow, the lack of speaking made it feel far more intimate than anything he had ever experienced. He couldn't do this with just anyone. Such was his relationship with Sam.

He couldn't really remember when the officer approached them and told them they could go home, under the condition that Danny would come back to the police department headquarters the following day. Danny did not move from his position even though his neck hurt from being bent at such an awkward angle for so long; Sam's chest vibrated against his when she murmured her agreement.

Danny allowed her to shift her arm down around his waist - grip still firm - and usher him away from the scene. He kept his eyes down on the ground as they walked, refusing to look up until they were standing at the passenger's side of Sam's car. She opened the door for him and waited until he was inside, seat belt buckled, before closing the door and jogging to the driver's side. When she slid in and started the car, she reversed out of the parking lot, shifted the car to drive, and immediately took his hand. He wanted to cry again at her touch.

He didn't have the strength to argue when they pulled up outside of Sam's house. "My parents are out of town and my grandma's basically in love with you, so it won't be a problem if you spend the night," She said quickly when she opened his door. He heaved himself out of his seat, blinking slowly with heavy lids, allowing Sam to take his hand again and lead the way to the front door.

He didn't remember climbing the stairs, or walking through the doorway to her bedroom, or mumbling that he would shower in the morning if she didn't mind, or changing into the clothes she offered him. He remembered wondering when she got his clothes to her room, but it didn't matter; all that mattered was that she was folding the sheets down and gesturing to the side of the bed he slept on when he was caught checking on her.

The moment Sam slid into her side of the bed, he hooked an arm around her waist and dragged her closer to him. He ducked slightly when she swung an arm over his head, allowing her to pull his head down to the crook of her neck. It was comforting, so comforting, to be held. The little hero in the back of his mind was embarrassed, though; he was supposed to hold her. He was supposed to comfort her. He wasn't supposed to need comfort or protection. He was supposed to give those things.

"Just relax, okay? We'll worry about it tomorrow. I won't let anything happen to you."

Hero be damned. He believed her.


	3. It Matters

**Okay, this one's a little different than the first two. I was trying for something a little lighter, and this is what I came up with.**

**Hope you guys like it!**

**I might upload another one later tonight. It's about half-written right now. I'm gonna go take another look at it just to see if I even want to finish it. (:**

**I don't own Danny Phantom.**

**Enjoy!**

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_'He's dead. It shouldn't matter this much - but it does.'_

* * *

I have to admit, on Monday, I wasn't exactly planning on spending my Friday night at a funeral. Funerals kind of freak me out. Not as much as hospitals or nurse's offices, but...it's just kind of creepy, being that close to the deceased.

Okay, I get the irony in that statement, considering the majority of my time is spent chasing down the dead with my half-dead best friend. Ha ha, _very_ funny.

Moving on.

I've never been particularly partial to attending funerals. I'm more of a wedding kind of guy. Give me a dance floor, some good tunes, and a few glasses of champagne, and I'm the life of the party. My personality isn't good with funerals. I'm loud, I joke around, and I'm horribly uncomfortable with grief. Especially other people's grief.

I'm terrible at funerals for my relatives, so you can imagine my horror when Sam asked me if I would be willing to go with her to her Great-Uncle Tommy's funeral. "You can say no," She'd said. "I'll totally understand if you'd rather not."

Well _of course_ I'd rather not. You'd think after five years of friendship with the girl, she'd figure out I suck at being sad. I almost told her so, but when I glanced up from my locker she was looking at me and her eyes were wide and shiny and almost screaming_ please don't say no_, and my 'yes' tumbled right out of my gigantic mouth before I could stop it.

Great. Just _great_.

I was a little relieved to hear that Danny was going too. Of course he was. He leapt at any chance to impress her, or comfort her, or just...creep on her. _It's got to stop,_ I'd told him. _You've gotta draw the line somewhere_.

_C'mon, Tuck_, he said. He ducked his head down so that his bangs partially covered his blush. _It's a funeral. He was her family_.

_No_, I'd argued. _Nana G's her family. Sam told me she's only met that dude, like, twice._

He didn't care. He wanted to be there for her. _Pah_.

Friendship.

The entire week leading up to the funeral, I was on the verge of a panic attack. I'd forgotten her parents hated me when I agreed to go with her, and of course they were going to be there. Why _wouldn't_ they be there? Now, not only was I going to be claustrophobic and sweating in the middle of a huge Catholic cathedral (turns out Sam's immediate family was the only little niche in the Manson clan that was Jewish. Weird), Mr. and Mrs. Glaresalot would be breathing down my neck the entire time. If only I could find Clockwork and convince him to let me turn back time...

My mother insisted I borrow one of my father's best dress suits when I told her where I was going. I grimaced; I'd been planning on wearing a black button-down and slacks. Mom basically scoffed in my face.

_You honestly think you're gonna impress anyone in that?_ She'd said. _No. Go get a suit from your father's closet._

It was a little big, but it worked well enough. And that's how I ended up here, right now, standing outside of the Cathedral with Danny on my left. He actually looks quite nice, though I'll never say it to his face. He's nervous; he keeps fingering the tie, like it's too tight around his neck. Sam gave us explicit instructions to wait outside for her.

"She doesn't want her parents to see us before she does," I mutter, watching a group of elderly couples attempt to scale the curb.

"Well, I don't really want them to see us before she does, either," Danny mutters back. His hands are shaking slightly.

"Dude," I watch him smooth his jacket for the umpteenth time. "Chill. What's your problem?"

"It's not a problem!" He hisses. A middle-aged woman in a ridiculous hat whips around as she passes us, shooting us both dirty looks. "I'm just...nervous."

"For what?" I ask loudly, ignoring the looks of indignation. Snobby rich people.

"I've never met her family before!" And now it all makes sense. Of course he jumped at the chance to go to a funeral for a distant relative of Sam's; this is his chance to meet the cousins early, so that when she starts bringing him around for Thanksgiving and Christmas, the foundation will already be laid. "I just wanna make a good impression on them."

"Dude, I doubt any of them are even gonna care," I say, trying to be soothing. "It's a funeral. It's not like you're gonna be in the spotlight."

"I know...it shouldn't matter. It _doesn't_ matter." He squares his shoulders and almost glares at the church, his determination to not care suddenly blazing on his face. "Everything'll be fine."

I roll my eyes. Just as I turn to examine the steeple of the church, I spot a familiar black-haired freak fighting against the flow of traffic, down the stairs, heading straight toward us. Bodies part and she leaps forward, her hair flying wildly behind her, and Danny and I are offered a clear view of Sam.

She looks good. I mean, _really_ good. If I wasn't friends with her...well, let's just say she'd beat my head in with a baseball bat. She's in this black (obviously), flowing dress that dances around her knees when she moves. Her legs are bare and black boots with tiny little heels adorn her feet. Her makeup is soft and pretty and for once I'm not afraid of dying when she draws up beside me.

"Hey," She says breezily, swiping her hair away from her face. "Thank you so much for coming,"

"No problem, sweet-cheeks," I say, testing my luck. She glares at me, but does not punch me as she usually would have._ Success!_

"C'mon, we need to get inside. It's starting soon," She starts to lead the way back to the cathedral, but neither Danny nor I move, so she stops after a few steps and looks back at us in confusion. "What?"

"Where are your parents?" I ask uneasily.

Her head tilts back and she laughs. "They couldn't make it. Dad had a business trip in Europe for three weeks and this is week two, so...yeah. They're in Berlin, I think," She comes closer to us again, a knowing grin on her face. "Is that why you guys are scared to come inside?"

"I'm not scared," I say, and it isn't convincing at all. She laughs and takes my wrist in one hand, Danny's in her other. We let her drag us toward the cathedral.

Danny rams his shoulder into mine and I yelp. "It matters," I heard him hiss. I glance at him, brow furrowed, and eyes eyes are wide and full of panic. "It _definitely_ matters."

I have to choke back a snort as we enter the cathedral.


	4. Date

**So this is more of a prompt than a word/phrase/quote, so I'm putting it at the bottom of the page instead of on top.**

**That's pretty much all you need to know about this one (:**

**I don't own Danny Phantom!**

**Enjoy! (:**

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"You do realize that the only reason I'm going is because my mom threatened to ground me for two months if I refused, right?" Sam said, wringing her hands nervously beneath the cafeteria table. "Normally I wouldn't even care about that, but Dumpty Humpty's in town next month and they're gonna be watching me if I'm grounded..."

Danny appeared not to have heard her. He was rigid in his seat, jaw clenched so tight she was almost certain his molars were cracked. The muscles in his arms rippled, as if the ghostly energy contained within him was fighting savagely for freedom. His eyes were flashing dangerously, and as she watched, small streaks of green shot through his blue irises like lightning bolts. His sudden fury was palpable - and confusing.

"Whoa, what's got _his_ panties in a twist?" Tucker asked as he slid his tray onto the table on Danny's right, glancing at Sam nervously as he sat.

"Sam's got a date," He spat through clenched teeth.

Tucker's head snapped toward her immediately. "What?" He demanded sharply, momentarily forgetting his food in his incredulity. "With _who_?"

"Some rich prick." Danny muttered darkly, his eyes still boring into Sam's. She lifted an eyebrow in annoyance.

"His name's Fabien, and my mother is forcing me to go. I've been dodging him for almost three months now. And if it's a date, it's a pity date. Believe me, I have no romantic interest in him whatsoever,"

"Have you met him before?" Tucker asked, shoveling in a mouthful of pizza around his words.

Sam grimaced at the grease dripping from her friend's chin. "Once, at that Christmas party my parents dragged me to at the end of last year. That was the first time he asked me out, and I said no. It's been pretty much non-stop since then,"

Tucker made a noise of understanding while Danny scoffed. "What, does he not ever hear the word 'no?'" He spat.

"Some people call it persistence," Sam shrugged, glancing down at her salad.

"Others call it _rude_," Danny said forcefully, slamming his fist down on the table. Sam froze and glared at him through her lashes. "I'm sorry, it's just that I was raised with the moral that if a girl tells me no, I should respect her decision, not try and force her to say yes!"

"Whatever you say, Paulina Fenton," Sam said coolly. His face immediately flushed a deep scarlet. "Look," She pressed before he could retort, "it's not like anything's gonna happen because of this. It's one date. One dinner. It's not even dinner and a movie or...whatever rich kids do for dates." Tucker snorted. "It's _just dinner_."

"Where?" Danny demanded, apparently already over Sam's jab.

"Oh no. I'm not telling you." His eyes were wide and pleading. "_No_, Danny!"

"What if he hurts you? What if you need my help and I don't know where you are?"

"If he tries to hurt me, I'll call you,"

"What if you can't get to your phone? Come on, Sam," He planted his hands on the table and leaned across, bringing his still-flashing eyes into sharp relief beneath the fluorescent lights above. "This is for your own safety. My peace of mind. Please tell me where this creep is taking you for dinner tonight?"

"Honestly, I don't even know where we're going. He said it was gonna be a surprise."

He reared back as if she had bitten him. "A surprise?" He repeated, his horror evident in his face. "Oh, God, he's gonna take you to some abandoned warehouse or something and torture you..."

"I seriously doubt he has access to an abandoned warehouse."

"How do you know? He's rich! The rich have access to anything they want!"

"They do not! Not _everything_,"

"Bowling alley. Movie theater. State of the art sound system." He ticked each one off on his fingers. "Pre-released movies, video games, music, technology in general..."

"...okay, they have access to all _material_ things, but he couldn't just buy me. Believe me, he tried."

Danny glowered at her for a moment, before his shoulders slumped and he sighed loudly. "Look, I didn't want to play this card, but you've forced my hand. As your local super hero, it's my _job_ to know -"

"Shut up." Sam interrupted, spearing a few leaves onto her fork and jamming them into her mouth. "It's your job to stop the Box Ghost from building a cardboard fort around the city. That's all you do."

"I just wanna -"

"Are you kidding me? I _know_ you, Danny. You'll follow me."

"I will not!"

"Have you forgotten the whole Elliot incident?"

"I only followed you guys because I thought he was a secret agent!"

"Did you?" Tucker suddenly chimed in. He was watching the exchange with a distinct air of amusement; his upper arm was flat along the table, bent up at his elbow, propping his head up with his hand. "Did you _really_?"

"Tucker, I swear to God -" Tucker yelped, having just been punched - hard - in the arm.

"Mr. Fenton!" Lancer's voice suddenly boomed overhead. Sam almost snorted into her salad when both boys flinched. "That's quite enough. This is a cafeteria, not a boxing gym. Try to keep the violence to a minimum."

The English teacher sauntered away, beady eyes sweeping through the cafeteria as he went. Danny remained hunched over his lunch, glaring down at the unidentifiable remains of whatever his mother managed to scavenge from their kitchen. "I'm just trying to protect you." He growled.

"While I appreciate it, I don't think your protection will be needed tonight." Sam tried to sound soothing, but his irritation with the idea of her dating was really starting to annoy her. "I can take care of myself with this kid. Trust me."

"But -"

"It's only gonna be a couple of hours, and I promise I'll call you the minute he drops me off at home," She said as she gathered her belongings and stood, salad bowl in hand.

"He's _picking you up_?" Danny nearly shrieked.

"You should just go now," Tucker whispered loudly. Danny was gaping at her as she slowly backed away from the table, chewing her lip almost nervously. "You're gonna do something stupid, aren't you?" He asked of his friend when Sam was out of earshot.

"Yep."

"Should I ask?"

"Depends. D'you wanna be involved?"

"Not really."

"Then no, you absolutely should _not_ ask."

* * *

"- and I was like, listen, man, I don't know what makes you think you're a Louis Vuitton _expert_ -"

"Maybe it's the fact that he works at the Louis Vuitton store?" Sam muttered under her breath.

"- but that is _not_ the black angular suit jacket Jack St James wore on the East End runway during Fashion Week in Paris!" Fabien continued, deaf to her sarcasm. "Oh, I wish you could've seen his face, Samantha,"

"I told you in the car, it's Sam. And I can only imagine what his face looked like," She nearly grumbled.

"Reservation for Fabien Benollet," Fabien tossed the statement to the maitre d', his lofty gaze gliding over the other patrons already seated as she scanned the reservation list. Sam rolled her eyes.

"Right this way, Mr. Benollet," The maitre d' lead them into the belly of the restaurant to a small, empty table toward the back. Fabien yanked a chair back and nearly threw himself into it, glaring up at the maitre d' when she bumped into his splayed legs.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"Oh, I'm fine, thank you," The maitre d' smiled warmly and gestured to the empty seat across from Fabien. "Can I interest you in a bottle of wine this evening?"

"No thank you, I'm underage," Sam said quickly before Fabien could open his mouth.

"My mistake. Your waiter will be with you momentarily," The maitre d' bowed and backed away from the table.

"I wish you would've let me order a bottle of wine," Fabien pouted as Sam browsed the menu. "They wouldn't have asked for your ID,"

"It's standard practice for a waiter to ask for a form of ID when serving alcohol," Sam murmured without looking up.

"Yes, but you're with _me_," Sam peered up at him over the top of her menu. "They _know me_ here. My father's a regular customer. The last time I brought a girl here I ordered their oldest bottle of scotch and they didn't even bat an eye."

Sam arched a single, thin eyebrow. "I'm not much of a drinker," She said slowly, trying to decide if she wanted to comment on his mention of a previous date.

"Well, I am." He planted his elbows on the table and hunched forward, glancing over his shoulder at a passing waiter balancing a tray on his shoulder. "What do you think they're having? It smells delicious," He leaned backwards before Sam could answer. "Hey, what is that?"

Sam let the menu fall forward with a _thunk_ and massaged her temples. _This is gonna be a long night_, she thought miserably.

"Good evening," A smooth voice murmured above her head. She glanced up into a pair of icy blue eyes shining bright against smooth, tan skin. Her heart almost stopped in her chest before she noticed the shocking blonde hair falling into the waiter's eyes; for half a second she believed Danny was standing over her. "Can I interest you in any appetizers tonight?"

"Yeah, lemme get the shrimp cocktail and a bot-"

"I wasn't talking to you," The waiter said sharply, glancing sideways at Fabien. Sam slapped a hand over her mouth, desperately trying to stifle her snort as Fabien began to splutter. "Ma'am, what can I get for you this evening?"

He was grinning at her as if he was sharing a special secret with her, like he knew her distaste for the man seated across the table for her was almost as strong as her distaste for meat. "Um, nothing. I'm okay. Thanks." She couldn't help the shy smile that twisted her mouth up.

She didn't realize he was bent toward her until he straightened and turned his head slightly toward Fabien. "And you?" He asked, all traces of warmth gone from his features.

"I_ just said_ -"

"Great, I'll get right on that." The waiter turned his head away, winked at Sam, and started toward the kitchen.

"I don't believe this!" Fabien was fuming, glaring after the waiter and clenching his fists on the table. "My father spent over _twenty_ thousand dollars here last year _alone_, you would think that this establishment would know better than to hire _street rats_ to service me!"

"He seemed professional enough to me," Sam shrugged, slumping down in her seat slightly. Fabien shot her a disparaging look before fixating his gaze on the kitchen door over Sam's shoulder.

"I can't wait until he comes back, I'm going to report him to the manager and demand his immediate termination!" He drummed his fingers against the table and nodded, eyes wide and maniacal.

"He didn't even really _do_ anything," Sam muttered, fingering the edge of the menu in annoyance. She almost wanted to text Danny and beg him to come get her, but her curiosity was piqued with her waiter. She desperately wanted to see what he would do next.

Several tense moments later, Fabien straightened in his seat. Sam glanced over her shoulder to see their waiter headed directly toward their table, a bottle of red wine in one hand and a shrimp cocktail in another. "Here we are," He deliberately set the shrimp cocktail closer to Sam's side of the table, positioning his body so that he was turned toward her slightly. "And I wasn't sure what type of wine, since you didn't specify, so I just grabbed a bottle at random."

"I would have specified had you not interrupted me!" Fabien was almost shouting. The waiter turned his head slightly, a bored expression on his face. "Tell me your name. I am going to report you to your manager for belligerent behavior."

"It's butts," The waiter said, and Sam thought she could detect a slight taunting edge to his voice.

"I beg your pardon?" Fabien's hand was over his heart and his face was twisted in offense.

"Butts, man, my name is _Butts_!" The waiter looked infuriated. "B-U-T-T-S! I didn't choose the name, but I wear it with pride! You mock me!"

"N-no, I -" Fabien's face was bright red, and Sam thought she could see beads of sweat gathering in his hairline. The patrons at surrounding tables were looking around at the source of commotion, but the waiter did not appear to notice. "I-is...is it your...um...ah..."

"Butts is my last name." The waiter said in a calmer voice, though it was obvious he was still seething. "My first is Seymour."

"Seymour...Butts," Fabien said it slowly, watching Seymour's face nervously. Sam was almost positive at least one blood vessel in her brain would burst with the effort it was taking her to not laugh. "Well, Seymour, I'm...ah...going to need to speak to a manager,"

"I don't think so," Seymour hissed, blue eyes narrowed. "How about I just pour you some wine and you get back to your very beautiful date, hm?" Through her suppressed laughter, Sam felt her face heat up at Seymour's compliment. "Not that you deserve to be here with someone so gorgeous. Maybe a few glasses of wine will open her eyes to what an insufferable prick you are, what do you think?"

"I...y-you...how dare..." Fabien seemed to be at a complete loss for words as Seymour turned and plucked the empty wine glass in front of Sam off of the table. He poured a generous amount and when he went to place it back in front of her, he leaned forward and winked at her again. She smiled shyly at him, and when he leaned away she was almost positive she saw the barest flash of green in his pupils.

"And of course, some wine for the gentleman," Seymour turned toward Fabien fully, lifted the wine bottle high over the table, and poured it directly into Fabien's lap. "Oops." He said in a low voice as Fabien shouted and leapt backwards from the table. "My mistake."

Sam was outright laughing now, no longer able to contain herself at the entertainment as Fabien tried to shake the wine out of his suit. "I will have you _fired_ for this and I will personally ensure that you are _never_ hired by _any_ other food establishment in this _country_, Seymour Butts!"

At this, the other patrons in the restaurant began to laugh as well, though none as hard as Sam. Even Seymour snorted. "You get right on that," He said, leaning against the table lazily. "By the way, you're gonna want to pat that out. I hear red wine stains." Seymour turned and offered his hand to Sam. "Ma'am, can I walk you out?"

Sam took Seymour's hand and allowed him to gently pull her to her feet. Without a backwards glance at the still-shouting Fabien, the couple skirted through the tables and traipsed directly out of the front door of the building. Seymour led her around to the side of the building, chuckling at the fact that Sam seemed unable to contain her laughter.

"Listen," He said when they were safely tucked between the restaurant and a neighboring boutique. "I have a confession to make."

"Is it that you're the worst actor ever?" Sam asked, leaning back against the brick wall of the boutique.

"What?" He said it forcefully, as if he was desperately clinging to the charade.

"C'mon, Danny," Sam laughed, brushing her hair out of her eyes in amusement.

His shoulders slumped and he sighed heavily. "What gave me away?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Seymour Butts? What are you, seven?" He snorted. "Your eyes flickered," She was still grinning. "Who are you overshadowing, anyways?"

"Some skater punk I ran into earlier when the Box Ghost broke in to the Uline factory downtown," He shrugged and swept a long lock of blonde hair off of his forehead. "Are you mad?"

"No," She reached forward and tugged on the red tie around his neck lightly. "You actually saved me from a real jerk. I'm definitely not mad." He grinned, took a step forward, and extended his arm, planting a hand over her shoulder against the brick wall she was leaning against. "In fact, I really should be thanking you,"

"Oh, yeah?" He asked, and his voice was low and gravelly. It made her heart lurch pleasantly in her chest. "And how would you do that?"

"Well, I'd be happy to show you...if you were you," both hands were on his tie, pulling him so close that their foreheads touched. She could see his eyelids fluttering, as if they were fighting to close.

"What?" His voice was little more than a husky whisper.

"Change back," She whispered.

He jerked away from her and glared down at his body. "Crap," He growled. "Be right back,"

She laughed as he darted out of the alley, turning her face up toward the sky and trying to be patient. She was so close, _so close_...

He came jogging back around the corner less than a minute later and this time his blue eyes and tan skin were set against his raven hair. He looked a little windswept, but his gaze was fixated on her lips. Her heart lurched again, this time more powerfully, when he quickly assumed the position he had just vacated.

Without another moment's hesitation Danny captured her lips with his own, a quiet groan that bordered on a growl passing through his throat and into her mouth. She felt his hand, the hand that wasn't against the wall beside her head, find her hip, while her hands came up on their own accord and her fingers tangled in his hair to pull him closer. He hastily deepened the kiss, fingers tightening slightly on her hip in a possessive gesture that sent small tremors through her mind. Her heartbeat was too loud in her ears and it felt as though there were dozens of fireworks exploding in her stomach.

"You have _got_ to be _kidding me_!" An infuriated voice screeched from the mouth of the alley. Danny and Sam jerked away from each other immediately, Sam ducking beneath Danny's extended arm slightly to find a red-faced, wine-stained Fabien glaring at her. "You ran off with the world's worst waiter, and now you're sucking face with this guy? Who the hell _is_ that, anyways?"

She snorted and glanced up at Danny, just to find him gazing at Fabien with a look of mock concern. "Whoa, man, are you okay? You look like you just took a wine bath."

Fabien screamed and stormed away as Sam burst into laughter. She heard Danny laughing as well; his chest rumbled with his chortles as her head fell forward and landed in the place between his left peck and shoulder. "Was that too much?"

"No," She sighed and leaned away, smiling up at him through half-lidded eyes. "It was perfect."

* * *

_Your character goes out for dinner on a date and becomes attracted to the waiter or waitress..._


	5. Sirens pt 2

**I don't own Danny Phantom.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_This is a continuation of the one-shot earlier in this collection entitled 'Sirens.' It picks up pretty much right where the first left off; the only difference is that this one is told entirely from Sam's point of view._

* * *

The first thing Sam noticed was the warm, favorable weight resting on her right shoulder. In her slight disorientation, she rolled her head toward the weight. Something soft and feathery brushed lightly against her cheek. She opened her eyes slowly, squinting against the invading morning sun, and half of her vision was blocked by a head of black hair rising and falling slightly with the rhythm of her breathing.

And in that moment the memories of the night before came flooding back. She shuddered at the recollection of waking to the sounds of a distant explosion. She'd sat bolt-upright in her bed when the window rattled in its frame from the ground quaking. In her gut, she'd known something terrible had just happened. She'd fallen, literally fallen, out of bed so fast she was positive her kneecap was cracked, but she hadn't cared the night before. She could feel it now, though; it was a dull, radiating pain slowly spreading up her left thigh to her hip, like someone was slowly driving a nail through her knee.

She grit her teeth as the memories continued to flow through her. The moment she'd managed to scramble to her feet, she'd flipped the television on. It took five minutes of mindless propaganda before the headline flashed across the bottom of the screen. BREAKING NEWS: WAREHOUSE COLLAPSES DOWNTOWN. CAUSE UNKNOWN. DANNY PHANTOM THOUGHT TO BE INVOLVED.

She'd never run out of her house so fast in her life. She was lucky that her parents weren't home; otherwise, they would have stopped her. But she hit no barrier in her rush out the door.

She was fairly certain, looking back on it now, that she broke several traffic laws and perhaps a law of physics or two in her panicked drive to the warehouse site. She remembered the tires squealing when she whipped the car into a vacant spot; visions of a broken, bloody, motionless Danny made it difficult to concentrate on getting out of her car.

"Danny!" She was already screaming his name as she ran toward the caution tape, to the place where a dozen other people were standing. She shoved through the crowd, blind to their glares and deaf to their sounds of indignation. "Danny!" She seized the tape and yanked it up, but before she could even bend to pass under it she found her path blocked by a large, beefy police officer.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I can't let you in here," He said. He didn't sound sorry.

"No, please, you don't understand! My best friend's in there, he..." Her voice faltered when she spotted his back; he was on the curb a few yards in from the police line, his hands over his ears. His clothes were tattered and dusty and stained with red, human blood. He was human. "Danny! _Danny_!"

His head raised slightly. His hands slid off his head and he turned slowly, eyes drifting over the mob before landing on her. For an instant there was no recognition in his face and her imagination immediately went wild with thoughts of memory loss, but thankfully before she could get too far his eyes lit up and he stood. She couldn't hear him over the sirens, but she could see his lips form her name as he ran a hand through his hair.

The police holding her back withdrew his arm from her middle and she flew to Danny. Her nose was smashed against his chest and he smelled like smoke and ash. She realized she was sobbing uncontrollably.

"What happened?" She shrieked, shoving away from him harshly. He stumbled slightly and the faint look of hurt that crossed his face was almost enough to make her forget her terror.

"Walker," He mumbled. He glanced at the building, as if afraid the ghostly warden would still be around.

"Why didn't you call me?" She was positive she was on the verge of hysteria; it took all of her self control to keep from pounding her fists against his chest. She wasn't mad at him, not really. But that wouldn't stop her from killing him for being a complete idiot. He winced and shrugged. "You scared me to death! I thought...I thought..." She couldn't bring herself to complete the sentence. Even thinking the words was almost enough to push her over the edge into a mental breakdown.

"They saw me," His voice was rough and uneven, desperation glinting deep in his bloodshot eyes. "They saw me change."

She felt her heart freeze in her chest. "Who did?"

"Cops," The way he was looking at her made her think that a strong breeze would knock him off his feet. "I was just...I couldn't..."

She wanted to hug him again. Gentler this time, warmer, enough to make him believe that he would be okay. Police were all over the scene, rushing all over the place, hardly sparing them a glance. "What did they say?" She asked.

"Nothing...yet," She watched his adam's apple bob in his throat. "Sam...I'm scared,"

Her heart shattered in her chest. She knew it wasn't the first time he'd ever been scared; he was human, after all. Not to mention the countless battles in which he faced almost certain death. But this was the first time she'd ever heard him said the words out loud. She had to look away to keep her emotions under control. "Okay..." Her voice was incredibly steady considering she felt as though she might break in half. "Don't worry about it. We'll...we'll figure something out." She swallowed. "Did you say anything to them after you changed?"

"No. Maybe...I don't know, I can't really remember," She thought she saw his bottom lip quiver.

"That's okay," She made her voice as soothing as she could, desperately wishing she could reach out and hug his fears away. "Really, it's okay," She reached across the small space between them and gripped his forearm when he did not look convinced. "Try not to think about it right now, okay? I'll think of something, I'll help you. Don't be scared."

It was a tall promise to make, but she would have been willing to run across the country if it meant smoothing the worry lines creasing his face. She thought that maybe it worked, for the lines on his face were disappearing, but then he yanked her forward into a bone-crushing hug and immediately burst into powerful sobs. It was enough to knock the air out of her lungs, but she squeezed back with as much power as she could muster. Anything to remind him that he was not alone.

He was a few inches taller than her and had to stoop to bury his face in her neck, but he managed. She held his head there and stared up at the sky through her tears, desperately trying to stay strong for him. His breath was hot as it skimmed across the base of her neck, raising goosebumps over her arms when it quickly faded into the cool night air. His hair was soft and thick and it tickled the side of her face.

Her surroundings were little more than a blur. She vaguely remembered tightening her grip around Danny when she saw a police officer approaching them, but the only thing she remembered about him was that he made her promise that Danny would come to the police station the next day.

Today. Sam glanced down at the top of Danny's head. He was still sleeping peacefully; she could feel his deep, even breaths warming her neck and the expanse of skin exposed on her chest by the dip in her shirt. His right arm was still hooked around her waist, and even though his elbow was resting lightly against her stomach, his grip was firm around her. As if, even in his sleep, he needed her to ground him to reality. Like she was his lifeline.

She stared hard at the ceiling and breathed deeply through her nose. He had never broken down like that before in front of her. Her arm curled around his neck as she remembered it, subconsciously bringing him closer. She froze when he stirred.

"Sam?" He rolled away slightly, just enough to peek up at her through his bangs. She smiled as warmly as she could, and he returned it hesitantly. "What..."

His confused expression fell as he remembered. She sat up slightly, propping herself up against her headboard and watching his face carefully. "Oh God..." He rolled away from her and fell back against the pillows, eyes screwed shut and arm previously wrapped around her middle draped across his forehead. "That actually happened, then?"

"Yeah," She was a little surprised at how hoarse her voice was. She cleared her throat when he lifted his arm and opened one dull eye to study her face. "I'm so sorry, Danny."

"S'not your fault," His eye closed and his arm fell back into place as he heaved a heavy sigh. "What am I gonna do?" He asked.

"I think you should go to the station," Sam said quietly. He did not move. "They might not want to...you know...hurt you or anything. Maybe they just wanna talk to you."

"I can't go in there by myself," He said firmly, but she could hear the fear in his voice. "I can't."

"Danny -"

"Sam, don't ask me to go in there," his voice was quieter now. "I can't do it."

"I'm not asking you to go in there," she said. Her hand drifted absently to his hair, brushing it away from his forehead the way her mother used to when Sam was sick. "I just want you to consider your options, that's all."

"What are my options?" he asked. His voice was slightly more relaxed, the muscles in his arm a little more loose; Sam decided to brush aside her slight embarrassment and continue playing with his hair.

"Well, you could not go," she said. "That means that the police will probably start a manhunt for you. And I mean Fenton, not Phantom. Your parents will be involved, and they'll probably figure out who you really are," his mouth fell into a grimace. "Or you could go in. They might actually just want to talk to you. They could ask you for help with their stuff..."

"Sam."

"I'm just saying it's a possibility. Not everyone you meet wants to kill you," a corner of his mouth twitched. "These people could be among those that actually want to help you."

"I just don't think I can go in by myself." He whispered. "What if they don't want to help me? What if they're gonna turn me over to the Guys in White or something?"

"I'm going with you, dummy," Sam tapped his forehead lightly with the pad of her thumb. "I told you last night, I'm not gonna let them hurt you. If they're gonna hand you over to the Guys in White, they're handing me over to them, too."

His arm fell away from his eyes and he stared hard at her. Her hand paused mid-stroke, before falling away completely when he sat up and turned to look at her fully. "You don't have to protect me," he said cautiously.

She dropped her gaze to her comforter, where her fingers tangled together. "It's the least I can do after everything you've done for me," she said quietly.

The mattress shook slightly as he rolled to his hands and knees and moved closer to her. "It's my job to protect you," he said, hooking a finger beneath her chin and forcing her gaze up to meet his.

"Yeah, but who's job is it to protect you?" She asked, ignoring the burning in her cheeks. "You can't protect everyone all the time. It's not physically possible. I think...occassionally...it's okay to let someone protect you, Danny." He clenched his jaw when she raised a hand to cling to his forearm, still extended toward her. His thumb stroked her chin lightly and compulsively. "It doesn't have to be all the time, if you don't want me to. But today...right now...I think you need this. I think you need me."

"I do," his voice shook slightly but she could see the amount of conviction in his eyes. "But not just right now. I don't think I could do everything I do without...y-you," his face flushed, but his gaze remained steady. "And Tucker, too. You know what I mean."

She snorted. "I know." She patted his forearm lightly. "Go take a shower. I'm gonna call Tucker and tell him what's happening. Do you need another change of clothes?"

His thankfulness was palpable as he leaned away. "Do you have more of my clothes here?" He asked.

"Yeah," she smirked and rolled out of bed, leaving him sitting in the middle of her mattress. "But mostly just shorts and t-shirts. I don't have any of your jeans or anything."

"How'd you get my clothes over here?" He asked, crawling to the edge of her bed and peering into the drawer she opened.

"Tucker and I thought it would be smart to keep a stock in each of our rooms just in case something like this ever happened." Sam said, refusing to turn around. "You know, in case your parents found out and you couldn't go home to get this kind of stuff. We've been sneaking stuff out piece by piece for the last eight months."

"You guys both have my clothes?" His voice held a certain amount of wonder as he scrambled out of her bed to stand at her side. "Who's idea was it to do this?"

"I mean, technically, it was mine. But as soon as I mentioned it, Tucker was really enthusiastic about it." She stepped back as he began to rifle through the contents.

"Sam..." He was holding a pair of cargo shorts in one hand and a plain black t-shirt in the other as he straightened and turned toward her. "I...you guys..."

"I know," She said, smiling warmly at his wide-eyed expression. "Go take a shower. I'm gonna call Tucker."

His gaze lingered on her face only a moment longer before he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Sam waited until the water was running before sighing and reaching for her purse.

"Sam? Please tell me you've heard from him."

"He's fine," she said quickly. She could hear Tucker sighing in relief. "It woke me up last night. I went straight out there and picked him up. He slept at my house last night. Listen, what have the news channels been saying about it?"

"Not much. Just that they saw him fighting with Walker, something went wrong, the building collapsed, and no one's seen either of them since."

It was Sam's turn to sigh in relief. "Good." She sat on the edge of her bed. "I don't know what caused the building to go down, but I do know that Danny was in so much shock after it happened that he accidentally changed in front of the entire Amity Park Police department."

"_What_?" She heard something clatter to the ground on Tucker's end of the line. "They saw him _change_?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "They aren't gonna do anything, I don't think. But...they want him to come to the station today."

"What time? I can be there. Are y'all already there?"

"I'm not sure what time, they didn't say last night. He's taking a shower right now, and then we're heading up there. I'll let him know when he gets out, and I can come by and pick you up on the way."

"Okay. Okay. Yeah. Just...call me. Is he okay?"

She heard the water shut off. "I think so," she said quietly. "He seems better this morning than he was last night. But...it's all gonna depend on how things go at the station, you know? He's nervous right now."

"Yeah, I would be, too. Hell, I _am_ nervous, too. Let me know as soon as y'all are on the way."

"I will," she heard the lock turn. "I gotta go,"

Danny stepped out in the clothes he pulled out of her drawer just as she ended the call. Sam had not realized how coated he was in grime before; he looked ten shades paler now that he was clean. Much closer to his usual color. His black hair was still wet and stuck up at odd angles. She wondered if he towel-dried it. His eyes were much more clear, the dark bags beneath them a little less pronounced. Overall, he looked infinitely better than he did the night before.

"You look like you feel better," she said softly. A light blush colored his cheeks.

"I do feel better," he said just as softly. He took a step toward her, before hesitating and glancing down at the wad of dirty clothes bound by the towel he just used. "Uh..."

"I'll take care of it," She stood and pulled the clothes from his grasp, looking up at him briefly and meeting his own hooded gaze through her lashes when she reached him. He smelled like a slightly more intense version of himself; his body wash had not faded yet. She thanked her lucky stars she peeked in his shower all those months ago and memorized the toiletries he used._ It's just in case he has to hide out at my house_, she'd told herself._ I want him to feel as normal as possible if that has to happen._

She heard him exhale shakily through his nose as she turned away, crossing her bedroom and tossing the wad of dirty clothes in her hamper. "How'd you know I use Irish Spring?" He asked as she carefully covered the evidence with her own dirty clothes.

"Tucker mentioned it when we first started talking about keeping stashes of your stuff at our houses." She lied smoothly. It wasn't a total lie; Tucker really _did_ come up with the idea on his own. She feigned stupidity when he asked if she knew what Danny used. No need to be teased any more than necessary. "I got one of everything. Just in case." She glanced over her shoulder to find him almost glaring at the floor and nodding. "What's wrong?"

His head snapped up and his eyes went wide. "Nothing," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I just...you two are awesome."

She smiled and stood. "We do what we can," she said playfully. His smile almost touched his eyes. "Hey," she moved toward him, bending forward when he ducked his head. "Everything's gonna be okay, yeah?"

He glanced at her through a worried expression. "I hope so." He whispered.

Sam gripped both of his arms and steered him around until the backs of his knees hit her bed and he sat with a little bounce. She knelt before him, still holding his arms. He flipped his hands over so that his palms touched the undersides of her forearms. "It will be," she said confidently. "Everything's gonna be okay."

"What if it isn't?" He lifted his chin slightly, imploring her with his eyes, and she knew better than to deny him this fear-fueled fantasy. "What if they tell everyone my secret and my parents disown me? What if I have to go on the run?"

"You won't be alone," she said, squeezing the parts of his arms just below his elbows. His eyebrows drew together in the middle. "Tucker and I will not let that happen. If worst comes to worst, we're ready to go on the run with you. You won't have to do it alone."

His throat worked against itself as he tried to swallow. "I can't let you do that," He said thickly. She didn't hear any conviction in his voice.

"Good thing it's not up to you, then," she said softly. The ghost of a smile flashed across his face. "We aren't gonna make you do this by yourself. None of it. Good or bad, we're here for you. Always."

Danny was staring at the place where their arms connected, his fingers tightening and loosening their grip around her rhythmically. She could sense something coming; the way that he couldn't seem to swallow reminded her of the night before, the way he acted right before he completely broke down against her shoulder; the calm before the storm. "Danny," she whispered.

That was all it took. In an instant, his hands went from holding her elbows to tangled in her hair, yanking her forward. She managed a muffled squeak of surprise before his lips were over hers, crushing her mouth with his, swallowing any sound she could have possibly made. Well, almost any sound; she managed a muffled, hoarse moan when his tongue darted past her parted lips. She couldn't remember opening her mouth.

He managed to both pull her to her feet and flip her around so that she was sitting and he was kneeling without ever breaking the kiss. His lips worked against hers and his hands ran up her sides, pausing on either side of her waist, tightening slightly over her ribcage. He pushed her backwards, lips leaving hers for only an instant as she hit the bed, before he was hovering over her and his mouth claimed hers once again. He hauled her further up the bed until she felt a pillow beneath her head. His right hand supported his weight and kept him from crushing her, but his left explored, running up her side and down her arm until his fingers laced through hers. She moaned again, quieter this time, so that it was more of an airy hiss from somewhere in her throat.

He pulled away abruptly, gasping for air, and she could practically see his pulse racing beneath his shirt. She blinked rapidly and panted along with him, desperately trying to look slightly more put-together than she felt. Part of her wanted to yank him back down and kiss him just as thoroughly as he kissed her, but a larger, slightly more logical part knew there was time for that later. Hopefully.

"S-sorry," He whispered. He was still holding her hand.

Her head fell back against the pillow as she swallowed. "For what?" Her voice seemed to be missing.

"I just...I didn't...uh...I wasn't sure if you...y'know...wanted me to...do...that," he looked away sheepishly, and she felt the muscles in his hand twitch over hers, like he was itching to rub the back of his neck.

"Danny," She murmured his name, shimmying her free hand out from beneath his side and trailing it along his jaw. His eyes darkened and his eyelids drooped immediately; her heart skipped a beat. "I _definitely_ wanted you to do that."

He brightened. "Really?"

She nodded. "And I expect you to do it again," there was only a hint of a warning in her words. The corner of his mouth tugged up, revealing a small dimple in his chin. "But...it's gonna have to wait until after the police station."

His face fell slightly. "Are you sure?" He asked in a voice laced with fear.

She squeezed his hand. "Yeah, I'm sure,"

He sighed heavily. "You know I really like you a lot, right?" He asked, carefully avoiding her gaze. His cheeks reddened.

She giggled. She couldn't help it. "Get up, lover boy, I told Tucker I'd call him when we were on our way," She shoved against his chest.

He rolled over, off the side of her bed, and straightened as she propped herself up on her elbows. "Sam, I meant what I just said," he said seriously. "I really do like you, like, _a lot_. I couldn't have gotten through last night without you. In fact, I have a feeling I won't be able to get through today without you, too."

She smiled softly. "I really like you, too, Danny." She wanted to tell him that if he played his cards right, he wouldn't have to get through today without her. He wouldn't have to get through any day without her; she would be there for him until the day she died. But it was too much too soon; instead, she reached forward and took his hand. "I'm here for you."

_And I always will be._

* * *

_Ah. Okay. I know a lot of you guys wanted to see what would happen at the police station. I tried to write it, but they had their own plans. I guess I'll leave it up to you guys and your wonderful imaginations. I like to think that these two will always have a happy ending (or some version of happy) but I've ready plenty of fics that go against that. You decide how it ends for them._

_Thank you so much for reading, guys. Y'all are the best. (:_

* * *

**Obnoxious self-promotion: a link to my Tumblr is in my bio. You guys should check me out. Someone should help me get a hella rad theme. Uhh...yeah.**

**- Tori**


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